


Don't You Cry No More (finale fix-it)

by Hayleythewriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fan Service, Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Series Finale, supernatural finale but make it good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hayleythewriter/pseuds/Hayleythewriter
Summary: Sam wants to settle down with a family. Dean doesn't know what he wants.Or maybe he does. Maybe he's known for years.Guess he's gotta grab him by the shoulders and lift him out of turbo hell.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Don't You Cry No More (finale fix-it)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here's the deal. I stopped watching Supernatural years ago. Destiel pulled me back in, and then I stayed up until midnight to watch the series finale on the CW app. Oh my god. I hated it. I made some angry tiktoks about it, and then went to bed. In the morning, I woke up, grabbed my laptop, and wrote 5,000 words of this fanfic like a woman possessed. Now I finally got around to writing the rest, and I'll be the first to admit, this is total fan service. But like, that's what I'm here for. I hope you enjoy this neat little 10k I typed up. Honestly, the finale freed me, because it means no matter what I write, it can't be worse than that flaming, Cas-less trainwreck. Oh! Also, Eileen isn't in this because I genuinely haven't watched since like season six. But hey, at least my Sam's wife O.C. has lines, am I RIGHT ladies??

Dean Winchester’s alarm clock went off at 8 am. He reached over and hit it until the buzzing stopped. The morning was quiet again, but his thoughts were still too damn loud.  


He sat up just enough to reach his bedside lamp and turned it on. Nothing happened. He tried turning it on again, and again, but no light. The lamp was broken. Of course it was. Because why would anything in Dean’s life actually work? He picked it up and threw it across the room. He stared at the lamp, bent and broken on the ground, and realized it probably just needed a new bulb. Dean didn’t think about it.  


Dean was up and dressed by the time Sam came into the kitchen in his exercise clothes. The toaster went off. Sam grabbed a plate and helped himself to some of the scrambled eggs Dean was cooking. Dean grabbed the two slices of hot toast, fumbling while trying not to burn himself. The toaster had three slots, so he could’ve made another piece. But they only needed two. Dean didn’t think about it.  


“What do you want to do?” Sam asked over breakfast.  


“Nothing to do but move on,” Dean said, stabbing his fork through his eggs.  


“There’s a possible case in Pittsburg.”  


Dean nodded. Sam stood.  


“I want to get in a run first,” Sam said.  


“Sure. We can leave this afternoon.”  


While Sam put on his running shoes, Dean sprawled on the couch and flipped through channels. As soon as the bunker door closed behind Sam, Dean turned the TV off and stood.  


Finally. He could get to work.  


He reached under the couch and pulled out a thick leather tome. He flipped to the page he’d dog eared and returned to his reading. Dean hated research. He’d started reading Portals and Ancient Artifacts a week ago, and he still wasn’t done. Sam could’ve read a freaking bookshelf in that amount of time.  


Dean blinked and refocused on the book. It didn’t matter what Sam could do. They’d just finished saving the world, killing God, and it was time for a damn happy ending. Sam deserved it. If he wanted to do some case in Pittsburg, whatever, Dean could do his secret research just as easily there as in the bunker.  


He’d just read the same paragraph twice. Goddamn, why did these ancient dicks invent pyramids and not audiobooks? Dean focused back on the book. This was just one of dozens of dusty old tomes he’d found that might hopefully maybe mention the Empty. He was going to read it cover to cover, even if it took another week. What did a week in the Empty feel like?  
Dean didn’t think about it.  


\--  


Dean and Sam were in the impala, driving down a long empty highway under a bright blue sky. Sunrays shone through the clouds. Dean didn’t think about it.  


It was easy, since Sam kept flipping through the radio like a distracted toddler.  


_‘We come from the land of the— Whoa we’re half-way— it’s the heat of the moment—'_  


Sam jumped slightly and twisted the knob sharply.  


“Just pick one,” Dean shot him a glare. “You’re going to loosen the knob.”  


Sam tried another station.  


_‘-angel with a shotgun, fighting til’ the wars—'_  


Sam turned the radio off. Dean didn’t think about it. 

They checked into a Pittsburg motel. It’s something they’ve done a million times, but this time Dean had an itch under his skin. He knew research was important blah blah blah, but he was sick of reading. He’d stumbled upon a paragraph about Ancient Mayan artifacts that looked good enough to him, so he was going to pursue it, tonight. First he just needed to sneak away from Sammy for a few hours. But how?  


“We can take care of the case tomorrow. I’m gonna go on a run. And I’ll probably grab dinner somewhere. I could bring you back something?” Sam said as soon as they dropped their bags in their room.  


Dean’s lucky day. “Nah, I’ll grab a burger somewhere. You go.”  


“Great,” Sam said, already lacing up his running shoes, “I might be back pretty late.” 

\-- 

Sam stood outside the Pittsburg Public Museum. It was midnight, and he was pretty sure he’d disabled every security camera. He didn’t have a lot of time to case the joint, so to be safe he pulled a black ski mask over his face. This needed to be a quick, easy job. He had to get back to the motel before Dean got suspicious.  


He grabbed his crowbar and snuck toward the backdoor.  


He was prepared to break the door open, but he wasn’t prepared for the door to be wide open already.  


He tightened his grip on the crowbar. He wasn’t sure what would be better—some stupid human robbers, or something supernatural. Either way, his crowbar was going to solve this problem quickly and quietly. He couldn’t risk anything going wrong. He needed this artifact.  


Sam crept slowly inside, wondering if he should risk running back to his car for a better weapon. What if whoever was in here beat him to the artifact? He continued forward.  


A hand touched his shoulder and Sam swung with everything he had.  


“Son of a bitch,” Dean ducked, narrowly missing a crowbar to the face.  


Sam lowered his weapon, “Dean?”  


“I thought that was you,” Dean straightened up, and took a deep breath, “Jesus. What if I had been museum staff? Do you always swing first, ask questions later?”  


“Dean, what the hell are you doing here?”  


“What the hell are you doing here?”  


“I asked you first.”  


Dean folded his arms. Then he threw his arms down, “We don’t have time for this. Look, I need some ancient Mayan artifacts to portal— I’ll explain later.”  


“The Joyous Discus,” Sam said. Then he put it together, “You’re here to save Cas?”  


“Is that why you’re here?”  


A high-pitched alarm started to blare. Dean tightened his fists.  


“Dammit! I haven’t—”  


“We need the Joyous Discus. Big gold plate. It would be in the archives,” Sam said pointing toward a descending staircase blocked by red velvet. “The museum piece is incomplete.”  


“Let’s move,” Dean ran toward the stairs. Sam followed right behind. 

Dean and Sam sat at a 24-hour diner. The Joyous Discus, well a piece of it, was safely wrapped up in Dean’s flannel on the booth next to him. Dean and Sam thanked their waitress, who brought them their burgers. Turned out neither had actually gotten dinner tonight.  


“Explain,” Dean said, through a mouth full of burger.  


“No. You explain. Why didn’t you tell me you’re trying to save Cas?”  


“Why didn’t you tell me?”  


“Because I thought you wanted to ‘move on’. I thought it would be painful to you if I talked about it.”  


Dean chewed his burger. Then he swallowed.  


“Look,” Dean sat back against the booth, “I wanted you to move on. We won, you know? I didn’t want to drag you back into anything. You should be thinking about your future. About your family.”  


“I am thinking about my family.”  


Sam’s eyes slid to the plate, then back to Dean. Dean couldn’t meet his eyes. Sam pressed on.  


“I’ve been doing research on portals to the Empty. It’s tough stuff.”  


“Yeah, I know,” Dean scoffed, “I’m almost done with Portals and Ancient Artifacts. That’s how I knew I needed Ancient Mayan shit.”  


“I remember that chapter,” Sam nodded, like a nerd, “that’s why I started doing a deep dive into possible artifacts. This Joyous Discus thing is pretty promising. There’s a myth about a lost soul who put his hand in the center of the plate, and he was transported to the lowest place in the world where he was never happy again.”  


“Sounds like the Empty,” Dean said stiffly. He didn’t want to think about it.  


“Well we still need the other 2/3rds of this thing to attempt the portal.” Sam said.  


“How long will the Pittsburg hunt take?”  


“There is no Pittsburg hunt, I just needed to get to the museum,” Sam said, “and I think I have an idea of where the other two pieces could be.”  


“Then what the hell are we sitting around here for,” Dean stuffed another bite of burger into his mouth, grabbed the plate, and scooted out of the booth. Sam studied him again.  


“No pie?”  


“No time for pie,” Dean said, “I’ll start the car.” He hesitated, “Sammy—”  


“Yeah, I’ll get the pie to-go,” Sam waved him off. 

The Winchesters stood in the parking lot outside of the University of Texas humanities building. It was a bright sunny day, but Sam was wearing a sweater vest over a collared shirt. He was hoping he’d come across as a graduate student. He didn’t plan for the Texas heat. Maybe they would chalk the sweat up to midterm nerves.  


Dean on the other hand, wasn’t about to fool anybody.  


“When I said ‘it’s in the archives of a school’ I meant a university. Not a high school.” Sam said.  


Dean looked down. He was wearing a white t shirt, red sweatbands, and red gym shorts. He looked back at Sam and shrugged.  


“Eh, I can make this work.”  


Sam seriously doubted that, but he watched Dean drum his fingers on the steering wheel for the last three hours. He obviously couldn’t wait to get the second piece of the plate. Sam shook his head and started toward the building. Maybe Dean could pretend to be a crazy person, and distract security when they forcibly removed him from the campus.  


In the end, Dean made it work.  


“I’m writing a paper about ancient athletes compared to high school gym class today. I’d appreciate your insight. I haven’t hit the books in a while, but I consider myself a life-long learner,” Dean gave a dazzling smile.  


The swarm of history students around him collectively swooned.  


“We’d love to help your research but first. . . maybe you should tell us about your personal workout routine,” said a young woman with dyed blonde hair and glasses.  


“Yes, yes, and here’s my number. For research purposes,” said a young man, who had unbuttoned his top button when Dean first walked into the room.  


“Here’s my number too.”  


“And you’ll need mine as well.”  


Dean smiled and happily collected their numbers. Not that he’d be calling. It just felt good to be appreciated.  


Sam appeared in the doorway of the archives and gave Dean a thumbs up. Dean couldn’t see the plate on him, but he must hidden it under his stupid sweater vest. Guess that thing had some practical use.  


“Well, my brother and I should be going,” Dean said, turning his attention back to the students.  


“Your brother’s here?” the blonde girl asked. Dean smirked.  


“Still got it.”  


Sam rolled his eyes. 

The third, and final, piece of the plate was harder to track down. But eventually, it was Dean who found it.  


“Raymond and Shannon Blight. They’re private collectors. And they bought a ‘piece of ancient Mayan sun disk’ from a charity auction in 2007. Sam. Sammy. Does this look right? The picture’s kind of blurry. Sam, wake up.”  


Sam reached for the bedside lamp and flicked it on. He blinked and saw Dean standing over his bed with his laptop. He turned the laptop around and shoved it in Sam’s face.  


Sam blinked again, “Uh, yeah. That looks promising.”  


Dean pumped his fist. Then he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.  


“So, uh. Get dressed.”  


“Dean, it’s three AM.”  


“You can sleep in the car.” 

Raymond and Shannon Blight lived in a two-story house in Illinois. Dean parked the impala two blocks down from their house, then he twisted in his seat to grab a gun from the back.  


“Why are you bringing that?”  


“Dude, we don’t know who these people are,” Dean said opening the gun to check for ammo. Bullets soaked in dead man’s blood.  


“We’re not going to shoot them,” Sam said. Dean looked at him.  


They looked at each other.  


“Dean.”  


“I wouldn’t shoot them somewhere bad. I just— this is important Sammy, it’s the last piece. And it’s better to go in prepared for the worst-case scenario. I don’t need this right now.”  


“Dean,”  


“No. Bring a weapon, don’t bring a weapon. I’m bringing a weapon. You’re breaking the lock.”  


Dean left the car, and Sam sighed. He opened his door and stepped out of the car.  


They waited in the side yard until they were sure all the lights in the house were off. Not much more they could do to prepare. Sam quietly busted the lock on the backdoor, and the two crept inside. Dean had his gun drawn.  


The backdoor was in the kitchen. No sign of the plate in here. It was a nice kitchen, warm and well decorated. Sam immediately noticed the artwork on the fridge. A painted handprint turned into a turkey. Pretty small handprint.  


They moved onto the living room next. Sam spotted it first. It was displayed on the bookshelf. The last piece of the Joyous Discus.  


Dean walked toward the bookshelf and reached for the plate.  


Just as he grabbed it, they heard a loud thump upstairs. Then a woman’s strangled scream.  


Dean and Sam looked at each other. A kid started to wail, and Dean and Sam ran up the stairs as fast as they could. Dean clutched the plate in one hand.  


In the second-floor landing, there was a man all in black with a skeleton mask. He had a woman, Shannon, in his arms, her neck poised to drink. Dean shot him swiftly through the head, and he fell to the ground, taking a shocked Shannon with him. Dean reloaded the gun, but he was slower than normal since he still had the artifact in one hand.  


While he was momentarily distracted, a second masked vampire appeared from the shadows and tackled Dean to the ground. Dean dropped the Discus. They wrestled for control of the gun.  


Sam followed the sound of the kid crying, into the first open door. In the window, another masked man in black had a six-year-old boy in his arms. Sam grabbed the vampire and pulled him back into the room, but the vampire kept his grip tight on the kid, as a sort of shield. Sam hesitated, and that was the only opening the vampire needed. He lunged toward the open window and jumped into the night.  


Dean finally gained control and pressed the gun to the vampire’s head. Another masked vampire appeared from the second bedroom. He had blood on his chin— Raymond’s blood— but as Dean shot the vampire underneath him, the other grabbed the plate and ran.  


Dean scrambled up to run after him—but he heard a groan from the ground. The woman— Shannon. She was still alive. But if she’d been bitten, it wouldn’t be for long. Dean glanced between the stairs and Shannon, but he knew what he had to do.  


“Is she okay?” Sam asked.  


“She will be,” Dean said picking her up gently. He knew she would be okay physically, it didn’t look like she’d been bitten. But her husband was gone. Her kid was gone.  


So was the plate. 

Dean and Sam sat in the impala.  


“I recognize those masks,” Dean said, “Dad’s journal.”  


They flipped through until they found them— a vampire cult nearby. Sam read the directions, and Dean started driving.  


They pulled up in front of the old barn. It was almost one am, but if the journal was to be believed there was a good chance that the kid was alive. They opened the trunk and started grabbing weapons. Guns with bloodsoaked bullets, silver daggers, and silver machetes. Once they were locked and loaded, they approached the barn.  


They killed the vampires without breaking a sweat. There were only four left in the nest, and last episode Sam and Dean killed God. So, you know. It wasn’t that hard.  


At one point in the fight, Dean impaled himself on a rusty nail.  


Dean grunted and felt for his wound. His hand came away bloodstained. Dean closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.  


“Sam…Sam, go on without me.”  


Sam stared at his brother. They were in a pool of moonlight, shinning down through the gaps in the old wooden ceiling. Sam stepped closer, and watched Dean struggle to breathe.  


“Dean.” Sam said softly. “No. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”  


“I know. I was joking, bitch. Get the first aid.” 

As soon as Sam finished patching up Dean, they started looking for the kid. Eventually they found him, hiding behind a hay stack in the horses stable. With a horse. Dean leaned against the door outside to avoid the smell of horse shit, while Sam gently tried to coax the kid to come out.  


“Come on. Let’s just grab him and go, we still need to find the plate,” Dean said.  


The kid perked up at that. Dean noticed.  


“The gold plate. Shiny gold. You’ve seen it?” Dean asked.  


The kid nodded.  


Dean joined them in the stable, “That’s great, kid. Where is it?”  


The kid pointed a grubby finger to the giant pile of horse shit in the corner of the stable.  


Dean made a face. Sam looked at the kid, “Did you hide it in there?”  


The kid nodded.  


Sam patted Dean’s shoulder, “He hid it for us. And look on the bright side—it’s not fresh.”  


Sam spoke too soon. The horse whinnied and did it’s business on top of the pile. 

Shannon opened her front door and gasped.  


“Henry,” she fell to her knees and pulled her son into a huge hug. She looked up at Sam and Dean, “Thank you. How can I thank you?”  


“No thanks needed,” Sam said, while thinking of the stolen gold plate in the trunk of the impala. She’d probably notice tomorrow, and hopefully she’d blame the vampires.  


“Farm full of haystacks and the kid goes for the shit,” Dean mumbled under his breath as they walked back to the car. 

They had all three pieces. Sam had seven different books open on the table in front of him, as he needed to read all of them simultaneously to get a real understanding of the ritual. His research was held together with sticky notes and red string, but he finally pieced together what he needed to do.  


Dean and Sam were outside the bunker, with their supplies. Dean had been in a worse mood than usual, but Sam knew he was just nervous about the ritual. To be fair, Sam was too.  


“This is stupid,” Dean glared but lit the scented candles anyway. Sam sprinkled chocolate shavings onto the mark he drew on the ground.  


“The book said the candles have to smell like lavender.”  


Dean didn’t say anything else. He just watched Sam prepare the rest of the ritual. He didn’t even give Sam a hard time for making a circle of sugar in the ground. When Sam added the vanilla, he got a little worried that he mistook an ancient baking ritual for the portal ritual, but what the hell. It was still the best lead they had. And it had to work. It had to.  


Sam said the incantation.  


It didn’t work. The gold plate didn’t so much as glimmer in the moonlight.  


Dean wanted to smash the damn thing against the wall, but he held himself back. It was still their best lead at getting to Cas. It was their only lead. They would try again, and make it work. It was hard because there were a million things that could go wrong in a ritual. Maybe the glue they used to put the plate back together fucked something up. Maybe Sam said a word wrong, or the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. Maybe they were supposed to use Tahitian vanilla.  


Whatever the problem, they would just keep trying until it worked. And in the meantime, Dean would keep researching. Another old book, another fringe website, until he could get to Cas. There was nothing he’d rather do. He looked at Sam.  


“Looks like the plate is a dead end,” Dean said.  


Sam didn’t say anything. He kicked the sugar on the ground with the side of his foot, breaking the circle, and started gathering up the rest of the supplies. His mind started racing with new ideas they could try. Next time he’d get Tahitian vanilla.  


Dean tried again.  


“Listen… We tried the ritual. It didn’t work. I can try it again, but maybe you should, I don’t know. Go take a break. Go live your life, you know. You’ve earned it.”  


Sam finally looked at him. But with the biggest bitch face.  


“Why the hell would I take a break? We can try again, or we can try something else, alright? But I’m not stopping until Cas is saved. I love Cas just as much as…”  


Sam cut himself off. Maybe he knew Dean couldn’t handle hearing something like that right now. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to end that sentence. Dean certainly didn’t. His feelings for Cas were too big, and jumbled, and time consuming to untangle right now. He needed to focus all his energy on getting Cas back, and not tossing and turning at night because he wasn’t sure if he…  


Dean didn’t think about it.  


Sam cleared his throat, “Uh— anyway. We should hit the books, even books that seem irrelevant. Maybe there’s a line or two that could help. It wouldn’t hurt to cover all our bases. And I was thinking, maybe we should call a few people?”  


“Who are we gonna call?”  


\--  


The hunters arrived by nightfall. And they were way, way younger than Dean was expecting.  


“Oh my god, the Winchesters! You guys are so cool,” Kelly, a bubbly 21 year old Black woman squealed.  


“Kelly, we said we’d play this cool,” Logan, a 20 something Asian guy in a black button up said.  


“That’s as cool as she gets,” Malia, a 20 year old Asian woman in a tattered leather jacket said.  


Sam stood in front of their “team”. Dean sat at the kitchen table, eyes narrowed and arms folded. Sam said something about the need for backup, but Dean saw through that. Sam wanted unpaid labor. He wanted interns.  


“We need to read through this material as soon as possible,” Sam said, putting a hand on one of four giant stacks of books. The three hunters were staring awe struck at Sam’s face. Sam patted the book stack awkwardly, “So. Maybe each of us could take a stack?”  


“They don’t know what we’re looking for,” Dean said.  


“Then tell us,” Malia stepped forward, “Please. You two are, like, my heroes. I heard your story during… a really hard time in my life. And it changed everything. It inspired me. That’s why I became a hunter in the first place. Just give us a chance. I know we can help.”  


Dean looked unconvinced.  


“Dean, we don’t exactly know what we’re looking for either,” Sam said. “We need to find out everything we can about the Empty, about the ritual, and about the Joyous Discus. Three extra readers would help.”  


Dean pursed his lips. Sam raised his eyebrows.  


“Well, ancient texts are pretty dense,” Dean said.  


“Ancient texts? Aw, yes!” Kelly pumped a fist, “That’s why I became a hunter in the first place.”  


\--  


Sam, Kelly, Logan, and Malia sat around the table to read. Dean grabbed a book and went back to his room, claiming he could ‘focus better’. Sam thought he just wasn’t used to seeing new faces at the table, and wanted to go be annoyed alone.  


A few papercuts and more than a few cups of coffee later, dinner was served.  


“Hope you like pizza,” Sam dropped a stack of pizza boxes on the library table.  


“I don’t like it, I love it,” Kelly said. “Dinner break!”  


Sam, Kelly, Logan, and Malia started talking. At first it was about their readings. Logan found a promising passage about types of sugar in rituals, and he and Malia started a debate between powdered and cane. As the dinner break continued, their conversations shifted toward more personal topics.  


“Is it true that you used to drink demon’s blood?” Malia asked.  


“For a while,” Sam said, “I wouldn’t recommend it.”  


“Have you always hunted with your brother?” Logan asked.  


“Yeah. It’s always been the two of us against the world.”  


“I get that. It was like with my brother, too.” Logan said, looking down at his pizza slice.  


Kelly reached over and put a hand on his arm, “It’s like that with us now.” Logan smiled at her.  


“So you three hunt together?” Sam asked.  


Kelly explained that she and Malia were dating, and Logan joined them on a particularly challenging siren case in Florida. The three worked well together, as a sort of little family. They loved each other dammit, and they all bonded over their shared admiration of certain pair of hunting brothers, wink wink. Kelly wasn’t very subtle.  


Malia leaned forward, “Can you tell us more about this case? Who are we trying to save?”  


“His name is Cas. He’s family.”  


“You have another brother?” Malia asked.  


“Yeah. Well, no, but basically. I mean, he and Dean are basically—”  


“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need another book,” Dean stepped out of the hallway, and everyone turned, “since I’m the only one doing any freaking work around here.”  


No one spoke as Dean grabbed a book off the table then turned and marched back down the hallway. Once he was safely around the corner, he stopped and listened.  


He heard a chair creak, then pages flipping. Sounded like they were getting back to work. He waited.  


“What were you saying about Cas and Dean?” Kelly asked.  


“It’s complicated.”  


Dean went back to his room.  


\--  


The next morning, Dean shuffled into the kitchen. It was too damn early, and he was up most the night reading. Maybe those ancient civilizations wouldn’t have died out if their books didn’t bore people to death. He rubbed a hand over his face, and grabbed the eggs from the fridge. He shuffled toward the stovetop and paused. The frying pan was covered in dried egg. The toaster went off behind him, and Dean jumped.  


He picked up a plate and grabbed all three slices of toast.  


Dean stared at his plate. Three slices?  


Sam was sitting at the table with a guest. Shannon, the woman they’d saved from the vampires. Between them on the table was one third of the Joyous Discus. Dean set the plate of toast down.  


“Dean, hi. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Shannon Blight. My son, Henry, told me you needed this. You took the one from our living room, but the real piece was in storage.”  


“They had a decoy made, to protect against robberies,” Sam said.  


“And drunk people at parties,” Shannon added. Sam smiled.  


“Poop guy!” Henry popped out from underneath the table and ran at Dean. Dean ignored the kid and turned to Sam.  


“Do you have everything ready? How soon can we start?”  


“Start what?” Shannon asked.  


“Just a project,” Sam said, “Dean—”  


“Do we need more smelly candles? I can run to the store. Or we could have those interns do it. We need to fix the plate.”  


“You have the other pieces?” Shannon eyes went wide.  


Sam stood, “My brother and I are collectors. He’s really passionate about the Joyous Discus. We appreciate you tracking us down.”  


“Sam, we don’t have time for—Dammit kid, get off my leg.” Dean took a few steps, but Henry didn’t let go.  


“I would love to see the completed Discus,” Shannon said.  


“Well, I don’t know if…” Sam started, but looking into her kind eyes made him pause. She’d just lost her husband, survived a vampire attack, almost lost her child. But no—he needed to turn her away. She shouldn’t be exposed to this world anymore than she already had been.  


“You can stay for the ritual if you control the kid. This guy’s got a steel grip,” Dean said.  


“You were in poop,” the kid giggled to himself.  


Shannon apologized and stood to collect her son. Sam stood too, and went to grab the extra sugar in the kitchen. Shannon, holding Henry in her arms, followed him. Dean left, to either grab the interns or the candles.  


“When Dean said ritual. . . did he mean the portal summoning ritual?”  


Sam slowly turned to Shannon. She smiled, knowingly.  


“Why do you look so surprised? The Joyous Discus was pretty pricey. I do my research before I buy.” 

The first time they’d tried the ritual, they’d been missing a few crucial elements. Shannon had found, in her research, that much like the myth, the ritual required someone to place their hand in the center of the Joyous Discus. And, as Kelly had discovered from a slightly different translation of the myth, the “lost soul” had to think happy thoughts to power the Discus.  


Logan lit the candles. Malia drew the sugar circle. Sam grabbed the vanilla.  


Sam did not say the incantation, this time. Kelly had looked it over and realized the incantation was actually a part of an ancient Mayan recipe. He’d basically been reading out loud the importance of preheating your firepit. No need for any sort of ancient words. Now, all they needed was Dean.  


Dean pressed his hand into the center of the Joyous Discus. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sam watched from the side. Logan, Kelly, Malia, and Shannon watched from semi-circle behind Sam.  


Dean adjusted his hand. He rushed through another deep breath.  


“Are you thinking of happy thoughts?”  


“Trying to.”  


“Then why isn’t it working?”  


“Apparently I’m not freaking happy enough for this piece of junk.”  


Sam looked from Dean, to the plate, to Dean.  


“I’ve got an idea.”  


Dean narrowed his eyes, “What sort of idea?” 

“Best. Idea. Ever,” Dean said with a mouthful of pie in the drivers seat. Outside the car, Shannon played an AC/DC song from her phone, Kelly held a cute dog, and Logan and Malia searched the trunk of the impala for anything else that might help.  


“Dean, try it again,” Sam poked his head through the passenger window.  


Dean swallowed and stuck his hand on the Joyous Discus on the passenger seat. This time there was golden spark, and Dean and Sam perked up. But the spark quickly fizzled and they were back at square one.  


“What else,” Sam muttered.  


“Maybe you two should have a brotherly bonding moment,” Kelly suggested.  


Sam and Dean looked at each other.  


“Dean.”  


“Sammy.”  


“You know that you’re my brother.”  


“Right, you too.”  


“And I love you.”  


“Yeah, you too.”  


“Well, we tried,” Sam said, “Maybe there’s something clouding your happiness. Are you hungry?”  


Dean reached for the pie, “Always.”  


“Are you tired?”  


“I got my full five hours,” Dean shoved a forkful in his face.  


Logan and Malia came around from the trunk. Logan held a wrinkled old trench coat.  


“Are you cold?” Malia asked, “We found your jacket.”  


“It’s not mine, it’s Cas’s,” Dean started to explain, and just like that, the plate lit up. Sparks started flying, and the entire impala was wrapped in a bright light. The car suddenly burned to the touch, and Sam drew his hands back on instinct. Everyone shielded their eyes.  


When they looked back, the Impala was gone.  


“Fuck,” Sam said. 

When Dean opened his eyes he was in the Impala on a long, empty highway. Above him was a grey sky. On the seat next to him, a pile of broken Joyous Discus. So it was a one time use kind of thing. At least he had pie.  


Which was also turned to ash, as well as the plate it was on. Great. Thank god that stupid dog wasn’t in here. Or Cas’s jacket.  


Dean got out of the car and walked in a circle. It was just dirt, everywhere, except for the apparently endless road. He tried calling Cas’s name a few times, but nothing happened. There were no monsters, and no Cas. He got back in the car and drove.  


He drove for about an hour, according to the clock in his car which was apparently still working. He turned on the radio and was pleasantly surprised it still worked and still got classic rock.  


After another wasted hour he decided to go off road.  


He drove over dirt, until finally he found to something new. It was a big, rocky, cliff, that stretched as far and wide as he could see. Something told him if he drove along it, it would be as infinite as the road. He walked it for a bit, but the rock never changed. He could’ve sworn he heard something though. He pressed the side of his face to the rock, and listened.  


He heard the crackle of a fire, coming from inside the rock.  


He sat on the hood of the impala and stared at the rock.  


He put a hand on the rock and tried to think happy thoughts. He got halfway through a verse of “Happy and you Know it” when he stepped back and scowled. This was stupid, and getting him nowhere.  


He grabbed a gun from the back and shot the cliff. The bullet ricocheted off and he ducked.  


He walked back to the road and found a decent sized brick. He flung that into the cliff, but it bounced off just as easily as the bullet. He didn’t know what he was expecting.  


He sat in the driver’s seat of the impala.  


If Sam was here, he’d already have a plan, and three backup plans. Still, Dean was sort of glad Sam got left behind. Dean would figure this out of his own, save Cas, and when they got back maybe Sam would have a happy ending of his own. He deserved it. Dean suddenly realized he had no idea what Sam’s version of a happy ending was. Probably not law school, but who knew? Dean knew one thing his happy ending needed, and he was currently trapped in super hell.  


Dean flipped on the radio.  


A happy ending meant the three of them, together, with fulfilling lives as a family, dammit. Sam had helped him get here, but now it was Dean’s job to save Cas. Grip him tight and raise him from the Empty. Full circle, if you thought about it.  


But Dean didn’t know what to do. This stupid cliffside was the only thing around, and there were suspicious sounds inside, but how was he supposed to break through? Claw through the rock until his fingers were nubs? He’d given so much of himself, for his family, for the world, for Sam. 

But he couldn’t sacrifice himself to solve this. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to.  


The radio started playing Carry On My Wayward Son, but the music suddenly felt too loud. He twisted the knob to change channels, but the song kept playing. Another thing he couldn’t change. He twisted it again, harder this time, but the knob came off in his hands. The radio stopped playing, but Dean didn’t notice. He stared at the small piece of plastic in his hands.  


He hurt his baby.  


But he didn’t care.  


Well, he cared. The impala meant a lot to him over the years. It was his baby, it was his home, and it had been for years. But all he could think about, staring at the small plastic knob in his hand, was how he’d take a sledgehammer to the whole dashboard if it meant he could see Cas again.  


He missed Cas. He needed to see him, and pull him into his arm, and tell him how much he mattered. He wanted to hold his hand. He wanted to tell everyone, and he wanted to tell Cas. He never got to tell Cas.  


Dean got out of the car and threw the radio knob as hard as he could against the rock.  


It didn’t bounce back. It went through.  


Dean scrambled to the rock, and inspected it. The knob had gone straight through. It created a small hole. He poked a finger into the hole, and brought it back unharmed. He looked through it. The other side was all oranges and reds. The sound of fire was even louder. Was that what the 

Empty looked like? It didn’t matter. It was his best bet to finding Cas, and he wouldn’t rest until he found him.  


The radio knob could break through the rock, because it was something Dean loved. The Empty fed on happiness or some bullshit like that. The rock could only be destroyed by things that made him happy. That was fine. He needed Cas more than he needed his car.  


Holy crap, he was in love with Cas.  


The radio was still busted but Carry On my Wayward Son was blasting from somewhere as Dean kissed his baby goodbye. The key was in the ignition and the impala was 20 feet from the cliff. He put it into drive and dropped the big brick on the gas pedal. The impala took off, straight toward the rocky cliff.  


It broke through the rock, exploding in a shower of rubble, just as the chorus of the song kicked in. Dean ran in right after the car, in case the stupid rock could mend itself. He wasn’t taking any chances.  


Well he was about to take a big chance, with his feeling for Cas, but that was a risk worth taking. 

On the other side of the rock was a room on fire. Dean felt like he was back in Hell. He looked over the pitchforks and brimstone, searching for any sign of Cas. He avoided the flames, and the falling pieces of burning coal, until he finally found a doorway. He ran to it and then skidded to a stop. On the other side of the door was a long staircase leading down.  


Good place to start looking. He started taking the stairs two at a time. It was dark in the stairway, and as soon as he was out of the light case from the doorway, it was pitch black. He kept going, now taking them one at a time. There were horrible sounds in the dark, sounds likely being made by horrible things. He hoped none of them had Cas. Or used to be Cas. He pushed the worry down, and kept descending.  


Hours passed, or maybe days. He was starting to get worried this was one of those classic Hell tasks, where you were doomed to repeat the task forever without stopping for food or water or sleep. But he kept going down the stairs, ignoring the screeches and whimpers, and wishing he’d brought a damn flashlight.  


Finally, finally, the staircase ended. He was in a room dimly lit in light blue. It was a completely empty room, with walls, ceiling, and floor of grey concrete. And there, sitting in the center of the room, was Cas.  


“Cas,” Dean said, out of breath, partially because of the crazy ass leg day he’d just had, and partially because it was Cas. There, right in front of him, whole and unbroken and beautiful. Cas looked over his shoulder, but he didn’t look happy to see Dean. He looked heartbroken.  


“Hello, Dean.”  


“Cas! I found you. I’m here. I’m here to save you.” Dean knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn’t fight the waves of relief crashing into him. 

Cas was alive, and they would leave the Empty hand in hand. Everything worked out. They could go reunite with Sam, and Dean would have everything he ever wanted.  


“No.” Cas turned back, so he was facing away from Dean as he said, “I’m not going. You should leave.”  


Dean froze. Then he got a hold of himself. Of course. He should have suspected the Empty would be full of tricks. He’d rushed in without a weapon but he slowly walked toward quote unquote Cas with his fists raised.  


The Cas in front of him huffed. “It’s really me, Dean. Not a fake or a possession or whatever else you may think. But I want you to leave.”  


Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulder and forced him to stand and face him. Cas let himself be pushed around. He faced Dean with a vacant expression.  


“If you’re really Cas… what’s the last thing you said to me, before the Empty took you?” Dean studied his face carefully.  


Cas looked down. “Can’t you ask me another question?”  


“No.”  


“Fine. I said something I wish I’d said sooner.”  


It was Cas.  


Dean grabbed him by the arms, “Cas, it’s really you. Come on, the stairs are a bitch, but we better start climbing. I can carry you if you’re hurt—”  


“Dean.” Cas stepped out of his reach, and gave him a level look, “It’s for the best if I remain here. But you need to go, have a long, peaceful life. It’s what I wanted for you.”  


“For the best? What the hell are you talking about?”  


“I know that you. . .” Cas took a deep breath. He started again, “I know that you would be better off without me. As would Sam, and the rest of the world.”  


“What?”  


“—and, Dean. After my actions and the rather unconventional twists and turns my life took this past decade, I believe this is where I deserve to be. I will spend the rest of my days here, in this hell within a hell, reflecting on the life I led and knowing that you and Sam are out there, alive and well. It is the best ending I could have ever hoped for.”  


Dean stared. Barely remembering to breathe.  


Then he started to smile.  


Cas furrowed his eyebrows.  


“Dean?”  


Dean’s smile turned into a chuckle, and now Cas was really worried. Was this a mental breakdown? Cas hesitated, wanting to pull Dean into a hug but knowing it’s the last thing he should do.  


“Oh, shit, Cas. You almost had me there. I can’t believe I almost fell for that load of crap.”  


“I assure you that was not crap.”  


“I assure you it was. Major crap. Grade A bullshit. ‘Reflecting on life’ and what ‘you deserve’? That’s such bullshit. You’re freaking scared.”  


“I am not scared of eternal damnation.”  


“I know! You’re scared of life. You probably planned your feelings talk around your one way ticket to hell, didn’t you? Because you’re scared, Cas, of what I’d say.”  


“I—” Cas took a step back. Dean took a step forward.  


“Hey, man, you don’t have to bullshit me. I get it. I’m scared too.”  


“You are?”  


“Are you joking? I tried writing down what I wanted to say to you, wrote the date in the corner, and threw up. You’re a man, and an angel, and I’ve never even said I’m bisexual out loud before. I’m freaking terrified.”  


Cas looked at Dean, and then squeezed his eyes tight and turned away. He took a deep breath, and Dean thought about reaching out to touch him again.  


“Life is all about making our own choices. And getting to write our own endings. And this is what I want Dean.”  


“You said you loved me.”  


“I do.” Cas could feel the weight of Dean’s gaze. “But we could end up hating each other. I would rather let you go now, go have a good life with a good family. And please respect the ending I choose.”  


“This isn’t how it should be.”  


Cas actually smiled at that. “I’ve always been a rebel.”  


“No.” Dean stepped in front of Cas so they were face to face. “This isn’t rebellion. And don’t bring free will into this. I’ll respect your choices, whatever, but you have to respect mine. I’ve searched for weeks, stopped hunting, trashed the impala, and I’d do it all again, for as long as it took, until I found you. Because you’re worth it.”  


“I didn’t ask you to do that.”  


“I wanted to. And I want to, for the rest of my life. That’s my choice. That’s the ending I want, a life with the people I love. A life with you. For people like us, that’s rebellion. When the odds are stacked against you, the true rebellion is letting yourself be happy.”  


Cas reached out and lightly touched the side of Dean’s face, just the fingertips.  


“What would make you happy, Dean?”  


“You.” Dean put a hand over Cas’s. “You.”  


Cas caressed his face, “I might ruin everything.”  


“Not if I ruin it first,” Dean smiled. Cas smiled back. “All we can do is try. I want to try. Do you?”  


Cas thought about what Dean had said. When he first came to the Empty, to this cold concrete cell, he was happy because the Empty was not the worst ending he could imagine. Dean hating him, Dean hurting because of him, that was far worse than any damnation the Empty could conjure. But now, staring into Dean’s bright green eyes, Dean’s lovely smile, Cas imagined a million new endings. Maybe that was the real horror of the Empty. It was a plain, grey room forever. He had already gotten too comfortable here. He forgot that while free will meant he could choose to avoid risk, it also meant he could choose risk. A chance to have a relationship with Dean was worth the risk. A chance to see Dean smile again was worth the risk.  


“You’re just kinda staring at me—”  


Cas cut him off with a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss.  


Dean was the first to pull back, “I swear to Christ if that was a goodbye kiss—”  


“It was a hello kiss,” Cas assured him, and went it for another.  


“Wow. Uh- good. Great. That was great, and I want to continue that,” Dean said, pulling away again, “But can we get out of here finally? The staircase is a bitch, unless you’ve seen an escalator around here.”  


“Oh. I should have mentioned,” Cas walked to the wall and pushed slightly. Though it was indiscernible from the wall, a door appeared and swung open easily. Dean’s jaw dropped. Cas turned a bit sheepish, “Jack stopped by.” 

\--- 

Sam and Shannon hit it off. She was an archeology professor, with a passion for ancient cultures and art, and when Sam told her everything, she took it surprisingly well. The vampire home invasion opened her mind to the idea. She insisted that he tell Henry, too, though perhaps a PG version of events until he was older. Sam’s eyes lit up. That implied a future where he got to stick around.  


He liked the sound of that.  


Sam thought about moving out of the bunker. It was a place full of memories, it was hard, sometimes. They didn’t even know where Dean was, technically. Sam was pretty sure the ritual had worked, almost positive that Dean had made it to the Empty, but the not knowing was painful. He tried a few prayers to Jack, but got no reply. He didn’t let it bother him. No news was good news. If Dean was dead, Jack would at least let him know. Send a burning bush, or something. He owed Sam that much.  


Sam eventually stumbled upon a book that had a handwritten note in the margin about the Empty. Time passed differently in the Empty then it did on Earth. Sam closed the book. He needed a moment.  


Sam didn’t want to hunt, not without Dean, but eventually Logan, Malia, and Kelly wanted to hit the road again. Sam offered them a deal. They could move into the bunker, use it as a home base, and though Sam wouldn’t hunt with them, he would do research, find cases, and give advice as needed. In exchange, they would continue to help him research the Empty. The three happily agreed.  


Months went by. Shannon invited Sam over for dinner most nights, and though Shannon was an excellent cook, Sam insisted they trade off. He’d pick Henry up from school when Shannon had late meetings. Shannon started coming by the Bunker on weekends. She and Sam would go running in the morning, and Logan, Malia, and Kelly would watch Henry. At first Malia refused to help, since kids kind of freaked her out, but Henry was pretty cool. She taught him basic self-defense, modified for a toddler, and Kelly captured the cuteness with a million pictures.  


Sam went to watch Shannon’s lecture series at the local museum, and Logan, Malia, and Kelly invited themselves along. When he pulled Shannon into a congratulatory hug, the three shared a knowing look.  


On Christmas eve, Shannon invited Sam, Logan, Malia, and Kelly to the house for Christmas movies and dinner. Sam brought ingredients for gingerbread making, and they all learned none of them had ever made gingerbread before. The first batch came out totally flat, but in the second batch they added baking powder and they came out a lot more edible. Even after Henry bit most of the heads off.  


Logan, Malia, and Kelly headed back to the bunker around 10, but Sam stayed to help with the dishes. He also wanted to set up his Christmas present for Henry, which was a tire swing in the backyard. He insisted Shannon didn’t have to free her ass off to keep him company, but she bundled up anyway and they debated which Christmas song was the sexiest.  


On Christmas morning, Sam confessed he had feelings for Shannon. She kissed him under the mistletoe and wondered what took him so long.  


When Sam returned to the bunker that night, Logan and Malia took one look at his sappy smile and handed Kelly twenty bucks.  


“I thought you’d tell her on Valentines Day,” Logan explained.  


“My money was on Easter,” Malia made a face. 

When Dean and Cas stepped through the door, they went from the Empty to total blackness. They were in a small space, four walls closed in.  


“Dean,” Cas said alarmed.  


“I’m fine. Where the hell did Jack send us?”  


“He said the door would take me home but—”  


Behind them a door opened up and light flooded into the small room. Now Dean could clearly see the shelves of folded towels in front of them. 

This was a closet. Dean and Cas turned toward the light, and there, in the doorway, was Sam.  


He was an old man.  


“You’re back,” Sam said, breathless.  


Dean was horrified. He hadn’t even considered the fact that time would pass differently in the Empty than it would on Earth. He couldn’t believe this wrinkled old man was his baby brother. He’d missed Sam’s life. They were supposed to live it together. He felt like he’d been kicked in the throat.  


Sam was smiling with tears in his eyes, and he pulled Dean and Cas into a giant hug. Dean couldn’t breathe. Cas narrowed his eyes.  


“You grew old,” Cas said.  


Sam pulled back and looked them over, “What?”  


“How many years were we gone?” Dean asked with a grave voice.  


Sam’s eyes grew wide, “Because— Wait. This is a costume— this is a wig from Party City,” Sam pulled the long grey hair off his head, and took off the fake glasses he’d been wearing. “It’s been a year, Dean. You’ve been gone a year.”  


“A year,” Dean’s heartrate slowly returned to normal. “Felt like a few hours.”  


“I read time in the Empty was different. Are you guys alright? Are you hurt? How did you get here?”  


“Let’s get out of the closet first,” Dean said, grabbing Cas’s arm.  


Sam gave Dean a look, “So you and Cas?”  


“I meant the actual closet. Where the hell are we? Did you buy a house?”  


Turned out Sam was wearing that stupid old man costume because tonight was Halloween. He was at Shannon’s house, his girlfriend since last 

Christmas, and they were doing a costume together. Sam was Carl, Shannon was Ellie, and Henry was Russell from Up.  


“I’m so happy you’re back,” Shannon hugged Dean and Cas tightly, and then stepped back to introduce herself to Cas. She’s already heard most of the stories, so she loved him already. Henry was running in circle, already hyped up on Halloween candy. Sam texted Logan, Malia, and Kelly the news, though the three were out on a hunt.  


Dean needed some air, and snuck out to the front porch while Cas and Shannon bonded. Sam joined him after a while, two beers in hand.  


“How did you get back?” Sam asked.  


“Getting to Cas was the hard part,” Dean said, accepting a drink. “Really hard. But once I found him, it was no problem. Jack made him a door, and that took us to your damn linen closet.”  


Sam chuckled in disbelief. “Guess I should’ve looked closer when I folded my towels.”  


Dean made a noise of agreement and took a drink.  


Sam looked over at him. “I’m glad you’re back. Both of you.”  


“Yeah. I’m glad you’re not actually 80.”  


Sam picked at the label of his beer. “We never really talked about what would happen after Cas came back. I mean, is it back to business now? Saving people, hunting things.”  


“Remember when I showed up at Stanford?”  


“Yeah.”  


“I stood outside your dorm for hours. I was scared you’d tell me to get lost, and that’d be it.” Dean looked at his beer, “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I guess I wanted to say thanks. For always being there. Even when you had every right to tell me to get lost.”  


Dean turned to Sam, and held up his drink. Sam clinked his glass against his.  


“Thanks, Dean. For everything.”  


They both took a drink. Sam leaned back in his chair.  


“I don’t know what to do with myself. This past year, it’s been all about finding you and Cas. I’ve helped some other hunters, researched stuff. I fell in love. Now I just don’t know what to do.”  


“You can do anything you want. We both can. Who gives a shit what we do? It’s about who we do it with.”  


Sam thought it over. Dean smiled into his drink. Sam had a pretty good idea what he was thinking of. He really, really wanted to ask but. . . he’d been waiting over a decade. He could wait for Dean to bring it up. He waited. He waited.  


“Have you and Cas figured stuff out?”  


“You’re so nosy.”  


“Nosy? You practically shoved it in my face for years, and I never asked questions. I never brought it up. But you know I support you, right? Gay, bi, or whatever. And Cas, too. You guys are good for each other. I should go tell him.”  


Dean stood.  


“If you spring a feelings talk on Cas, I’ll just have to tell Shannon all about your awkward emo phase. I could probably pull up a picture or two.”  


Dean walked into the house and Sam rolled his eyes.  


“Oh so mature Dean— Dean, wait, you don’t actually have pictures right?” 

\-- 

It had to end with a wedding.  


Dean stood in front of the mirror in a tux, pulling down his sleeve. He looked himself up and down, doing a last-minute check for cocktail sauce. There were appetizers in the house before the backyard ceremony, so he grabbed a few. Sue him.  


“We need to take our positions,” Cas said from the doorway of the guest room.  


Dean turned and looked Cas up a down. This time, he wasn’t checking for sauce. He took his time, looking from his crisp lines of his tux pants up to his broad, square shoulders. He couldn’t hide his smile.  


“This is a good look for you,” he said, slowly making his way toward Cas.  


Cas’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You said the same thing when we woke up this morning.”  


Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and smirked, “That was a good look for you, too.”  


“Everyone’s waiting.” Cas said, but made no move to pull away.  


“They can wait a little longer,” Dean leaned forward for a kiss.  


Sam skidded into the doorway, in a tux and state of panic. “There you are. C’mon, you’re supposed to be standing next to me before we start. And we should have started five minutes ago. Do you have the rings?”  


“Henry has the rings,” Cas said before Dean could make a joke that would freak Sam out even more. Dean sadly pulled away from Cas and slapped Sam on the back.  


“You need to relax, man. Let’s grab a shot of liquid courage.”  


Sam shot Cas a look, “You promised you’d keep him sober until after his speech.”  


“If it makes you feel better, I edited his speech, and took out most of the gory details.”  


“Do you mean gory like embarrassing or gory like actual blood and guts?”  


“I meant embarrassing. Most of the stories involve copious amounts of blood and guts.”  


“Dean, no one wants to hear—” Sam started bitching.  


“Okay, Groomzilla,” Dean rolled his eyes, put an arm around Sam and started walking toward the backyard, “Leave the Best Man speech to the Best Man. C’mon. Your beautiful bride is waiting. Do you think she’s nervous she chose the wrong Winchester?”  


“I hope not. Sam is too tall for me,” Cas said just deadpan enough that Sam laughed.  


The wedding was very small, in Shannon and Sam’s backyard. About a dozen tables were set up in the grass, with family and friends seated around them. Candles flickered on every table, and string lights hung between trees shined above them.  


Dean stood in front of the table with the wedding cake and raised a glass. The wedding guests quieted down and gave him their attention. 

Shannon and Sam sat at a table for two, turned to face Dean.  


Dean cleared his throat. He shuffled his feet. Then he looked at Sam.  


“I want to give a toast that’s nothing like my brother— short and sweet.” He got a few chuckles. He cleared his throat again, and continued, “Sam and I have been through a lot of hard times together. Our whole lives, really, but even just these last 15 years… we’ve had some crazy shit thrown at us. And we’ve survived it all— mostly. We survived. Sam’s my baby brother but the truth is, I’ve always looked up to him. I used to think life was all about the hunt. I was just a tool, that had to be sharp and ready to kill. Sam was the first person in my life that showed me life can be about so much more. Your life can be about anything you want it to be. Don’t get me wrong— I love the hunt. And sorry Sam, but I’ve got a new hunting partner, and he kicks ass. And he doesn’t bitch about my music all the time. Only half the time.”  


Dean looked toward Cas and gave him a private grin. Cas looked especially ethereal in the candlelight. He smiled back, and Dean couldn’t look away.  


“Your speech,” Henry said, impatiently standing behind the cake. Dean snapped back to the moment.  


“Right. Thanks, little dude. Sam was never afraid to go after what he wanted. And when he wanted something, he wanted it with everything. With his whole heart. And let me tell you, big guy, even bigger heart. Shannon, I see that in you too. You’re a dedicated friend, mother, professor. You’re the funniest in the family, and also the smartest. You make loving people look easy, which takes a special sort of heart. And yes— sorry, Sam, but I had a few shots before I got up here. This shit is hard to say,” the audience laughed.  


“So, uh, anyway,” Dean raised his glass, “Here’s to Shannon—a woman way out of my brother’s league. Here’s to Sam— the best Winchester of us all. And here’s to this kid, my favorite nephew. Cheers, to the beautiful family that grows from two hearts like yours.”  


The audience cheered, and Sam and Shannon were already out of the seats, ready to rush Dean with a hug. Henry was right behind them.  


Cas smiled from his table, where he sat next to Logan, Malia, and Kelly.  


“That was the most beautiful speech I’ve ever heard,” Kelly said, crying.  


“It was alright,” Malia said, trying to be tough while also crying.  


Logan gave Cas a nudge and whispered, “Have you asked Dean, yet?”  


“Not yet. I wanted to wait until after his speech.”  


“The hunters in Chicago want an answer by tonight,” Logan said, glancing at his phone. “Good luck, man.” 

After an hour on the dance floor, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and lead him to the relative quiet of the front yard. There weren’t any string lights out there, but a few fireflies flew in circles through the warm summer air.  


“Tired of seeing me in this tux?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and started unbuttoning.  


Cas stopped walking, but didn’t let go of Dean’s hand.  


“Dean. We’ve talked about adopting children.”  


Dean stopped unbuttoning.  


“Uh, yeah. We have. Why?”  


Cas looked at Dean. He tried not to look too hopeful. “A hunting team, a married couple, in Chicago were killed on the job. They left behind children. The children are staying with some hunters in Chicago, but they want to put them into foster care soon. Logan is friends with one of the hunters. That’s how I found out.”  


“What are you saying, Cas?”  


Cas reached for Dean’s other hand. He squeezed them tightly, let out a shaky breath.  


“I don’t know. But they’ve been exposed to the supernatural. They need a home— at least a foster one. I guess I just thought, since you hurt your knee on our last case, maybe you wanted to spend some more time at home. . . and. . . I don’t know.”  


Dean cupped his head in his hands, “I think I know.”  


Cas put a hand on Dean’s. “Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you if you’re not ready. And this is very last minute— we’d probably have to drive down tonight. We could wait. Maybe we should.”  


“Cas. We can’t wait. It’s now or never, for these kids. Uh— how many kids exactly?”  


“Two,” Cas said, “Two girls. 4 and 2.”  


“They need a home. We have a home. Sure, this is last minute, but we’ll be like foster parents. We can make it work. Logan, Malia, and Kelly can set up their room while we make the drive. We’ll need a car seat. Maybe we could borrow some of Henry’s old stuff. Cas. . . if they get sent to actual foster care, there’s a chance they could be split up.”  


“It’s a big decision. It will change our lives.”  


“You know I want this, Cas. We’ve talked about that much. But we’re a team. If you want to wait, we can wait.”  


Cas studied Dean’s face and remembered what it felt like to study his soul. So much love, he could drown in it. This sudden decision about kids, about becoming a parent, pulled the rug out from under him. It felt like he was freefalling, ever since Logan had told him the situation.  


But when he looked into Dean’s eyes, he was back on solid ground. They could do this, if they worked together. They could do anything.  


“Go ask Sam for a car seat. I’ll get the keys.”  


That night, Sam drove himself and Shannon to their honeymoon in California, while Cas and Dean drove toward Chicago. Their cars were headed in different directions, but both would be back. And their family would only continue to grow.

They were gonna need a bigger toaster.


End file.
